Family Matters
by Amerath's Destiny
Summary: Five times Evelyn's family didn't approve of her choices, and the one time she decided to defer to their judgement.


**A/N:** I realized I haven't written any Cullen/Trevleyan stuff, despite the fact that I love the Cullenmance in Inquisition. I've also been meaning to write some cute Trevelyan family stuff. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and do both. Live your dreams, kids.

* * *

Evelyn had nearly finished packing when she heard the door quietly click shut behind her. Her eldest sibling sighed deeply, and she turned just in time to see him running his hand down his face. For the first time in his life, the youthful cheer had gone out of Mason's face, and he looked far older than his nineteen years.

"The healer says he'll be all right," he told her. The setting sun through the window set his bright red hair alight. She wondered if her head was aflame as well, or if she was cast in shadow with her back to the sun – like she felt. "She's not sure what to do about his eye, but she's returning to the Circle for the night. Says he'll make it through."

Evelyn let out a deep breath she didn't know she had been holding, sitting down heavily on the bed. "Thank the Maker." Her hands were shaking as she ran them through her hair – why were they shaking? She couldn't quite remember.

"And you?" Mason asked, approaching her to set a big hand on her shoulder. He already towered over both their mother and father. Her older sister liked to joke that Evelyn was following in his footsteps. "The healer said to keep an eye on the rest of the family. Something about shock."

"I'm not shocked," she told him, patting the hand on her shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. She wasn't even sure what shock was supposed to feel like anymore. "I just feel…numb. I can't believe this happened. I can't believe I _let_ this happen."

"Hey, hey." Mason's fingers touched her chin, tilting her face up to look him in the eye. The striking gray color – the same color that the rest of her family (but for her mother and Evelyn herself) shared – made it hard to look away. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known."

"Easy for you to say," she said. "You're not the one who maimed your brother for life."

"You didn't…" he trailed off once he realized that she was right. "We all thought you were too old. Gail found out at eleven; you're already fourteen. Nobody expected…"

He seemed to realize that there wasn't anything he could say to break her out of her mood. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, and Evelyn rested her forehead on his chest. When she was really young, and Gail had used to pop out from behind corners to scare her for fun, Mason had used to hold her like this. For a moment, it was nice to pretend that she was a little girl again, and that none of this had ever happened.

She felt his arms stiffen around her, and he leaned forward to pick something up off of the bed. "Evelyn, what's this?" he asked lowly, stepping back with the straps of the bag she had been packing in one hand.

Oh. Right. That. She had almost forgotten about that.

"My bag," she stated plainly.

"I realized," was Mason's dry reply. "I was asking why it's out and full of your stuff."

"Because I'm leaving for the Circle."

" _What?"_

Evelyn just shrugged and lifted her bag out of his hands. He didn't even try to resist. _Now_ who was in shock?

"I'm a mage," she told him. "Mages live in the Circle."

"Not _all_ mages."

"Would you rather I be an apostate?" she replied, turning her back to continue packing her bag. "Gail chose to run rather than go to the Circle. I won't shame the family like that. I need to go away somewhere; someplace where I won't be a danger to anyone else. The Circle's where I belong."

"You do _not_ belong there," Mason spat hotly. "You can't go!"

Evelyn interrupted him before he could get any further with his protests. "Mason, _think_ for a moment!" Thankfully, he quieted, but his posture was still stiff, his hands curled into fists at his sides. "These are my options," she told him calmly. "I could not go to the Circle of Magi – I could become an apostate, like you seem to be suggesting. What then? I couldn't stay here. Don't interrupt me, I'm still talking," she stopped him as he opened up his mouth to interject. "The magic is already in me – it's been in me all along. Now that it's presented itself, I'm vulnerable to demonic possession – and that's not even mentioning how unstable magic can be without training! I couldn't stay here. I've already hurt one of you. I couldn't stand to hurt another. I don't want to live the rest of my life on the run, either – I want to go somewhere I can be taught to control this."

Throughout her entire prepared monologue, Evelyn didn't face him, instead keeping her eyes trained out the window. At the end, though, she turned to face him. She wished she hadn't – the pained look on his face was almost too much for her to bear.

"Please," he whispered. "Please don't go. I've already lost one of my little sisters. I can't lose the other."

Standing from her spot on the bed, she walked over to wrap her arms around her brother's waist. Evelyn's resolve was firm, but that didn't make looking at her brother's face as she told him that she was leaving any easier.

After a moment, her brother hugged her back, nearly crushing her to his chest. Evelyn didn't complain – this might be the last time she saw him, and she wanted to cling to this moment.

"Wait to leave until tomorrow, at least," he asked. There was a telling quaver in his voice. "We can see you off then, and Daniel might be awake by morning. He'd want to say goodbye."

Evelyn didn't think so, but she nodded into his shoulder anyways. "Write to me?"

"Nothing in the world could stop me."

* * *

The Temple of Sacred Ashes had practically been divided in two. The mages hid in the southern rooms of the grand ruin – some had even set up password systems to keep unwanted visitors out. The templars, meanwhile, had taken up residence in the northern half of the Temple, glaring fiercely at any passerby that wasn't wearing the downward-turned sword of their Order.

The middle rooms of the Temple, however, seemed much more neutral, as well as the grand room where the peace talks would take place once the Divine arrived. Members of both parties were in the rooms there – though never together. Others also stalked the halls who she didn't think belonged to either party – Evelyn even thought she saw a few Dalish elves, though they avoided her gaze and kept to themselves.

Evelyn herself felt most comfortable there – the templars would never accept a mage in "their" half of the temple, and the other mages sneered and turned their noses up at one who hadn't immediately joined their rebellion. Still, she had to tread carefully here.

The flash of silver in the corner of her eye caused her to rethink stepping past the next room in the hallway, and she backpedaled quickly so she was hidden behind the wall. Templars. Wonderful. Even if they were at a truce, Evelyn was reluctant to make herself known, for fear of provoking something.

Their voices echoed from the room, light and cheery. Despite the fact that she had made a couple of templar friends in her time at the Circle in Ostwick, it was easy to forget that they weren't all the stoic, stern-faced people that they had to be while guarding mages.

Cocking her head to one side, she focused on the voices. Yes, that one in particular – why did it sounds so familiar? The pitch was too deep, but the tone…

There was only one way to find out. Softly, Evelyn whistled the little, three-note tune she and her siblings had made up so long ago when they were trying to lure each other away from their parents.

For a moment, there was no response, and the templars continued their cheery conversation. Then, a voice – _that_ voice! – excused itself from its brethren. Her heart fluttered in her chest as armored boots clunked toward the doorway.

The hammering in her chest silenced when he turned the corner, his face (Maker, where had all the baby fat gone?) frozen at the sight of her. Then, she silently placed a finger over her lips, beckoning him over to one the few empty rooms she had passed.

As soon she shut the door behind her, Mikhail's strong arms swept her up off of her feet, crushing her to him. "Maker, little brother!" she laughed. "Watch the armor!"

"Sorry, sorry!" he cried, setting her gently on her feet to hug her with a little less force. "I can't believe you're here! I missed you, Ev."

Evelyn gave him one last squeeze before releasing him. It was strange to hear his voice so much deeper than she was used to – and that wasn't even mentioning the fact that she stood eye level with him. And for that matter…

"Andraste's flaming sword, Mikhail, what did you do to your _hair?_ "

Mikhail's face turned the color of his (near non-existent) hair. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on top of his head. "I got in a fight with a mage a week or so ago. He nearly burned all my hair off. Besides, I could say the same to you! What happened to your braids?" He reached forward to tug playfully at a strand that didn't quite touch her shoulder.

"Training apprentices is harder than it looks! Imagine what happened to you, but multiple times over. Better to have it short enough to pin back quickly – _away_ from any stray flames. Mikhail, what are you doing here? How's the family? I haven't heard anything since the war started."

"Mason's been with Mother and Father, of course. They've been wanting to hoard their resources since this all started, so he's been making sure the people have enough as well, and leading troops to defend some of the villages on the outskirts." He ticked off family members on his fingers as he went. "Gail hasn't written much, but I'm pretty sure she joined the rebellion. Last I heard she hiding somewhere south of Redcliffe." Then, his face lit up. "That's right, no one ever told you! Mother had another baby."

Evelyn's eyebrows shot upward. "Really? During the war?"

"No, a few years before. Her name's Penelope – you'd like her." Then, he sheepishly looked away. "Sorry for not writing about it before. Mason was worried you'd be jealous."

Evelyn laughed at that. "Hardly. I'm glad Mother's got another little girl to pamper."

"Mason, Daniel, and I have been taking bets on whether or not she'll have magic. You Trevelyan women seem to have a knack for that."

"Daniel! That's right! How is he? I thought you two were inseparable." Swallowing and looking away, she asked slowly, "Is he still…?"

Mikhail shifted uncomfortably, his armor clinking softly. "He's still sour – I think he's always going to be – but I don't think it's directed at you anymore. More just…everything in general."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No one else does. But if I don't believe in the good in my own twin, who will?"

"Is he here?"

Mikhail shook his head. "No. After the Order broke away from the Chantry, Daniel left with a few others. I decided to stay behind – I was hoping that I could keep the others from doing anything too drastic, but…"

There was a long moment of silence. Evelyn reached out to rest a hand on his arm. "You did the best you could."

Mikhail shook off his solemnity, but his face remained serious. "Evelyn, what are you doing here?"

"After everything…you know, happened," she explained with a nervous chuckle, "there was a huge schism at the Ostwick Circle. The rebel mages started to attack the templars, and the loyalists were determined to bring them back into the fold by any means necessary. There were a lot of people caught in the middle – the Tranquil, the younger apprentices, the older or infirm mages. A few of the mages, myself included, and a couple of templars, have been trying to keep them safe. One of the rebels set an explosive spell near the bottom of the tower a couple months ago, so we brought them here. I've been asked to speak at the peace talks, as well."

"You shouldn't have brought them. You shouldn't be here at _all_."

Evelyn frowned. "This is the safest place in southern Thedas now – possibly the safest place in _all_ of Thedas."

"Hardly. Evelyn, haven't you heard the talk around here? _Nobody_ thinks this is going to work. Some of the templars are already planning their attack for after this falls through and the Divine leaves. I'm sure something similar is happening on the mage's side of the Temple."

"Those are just backup plans, for if these talks fail. And these talks _can't_ fail!"

Mikhail reached out and grabbed her arm, careful not to hurt her with his metal gauntlets. "Please, Evelyn. Listen to me. Take the Tranquil, the apprentices, and whoever else you can convince to go with you, and leave this place. I couldn't stand to see you get hurt, and I don't want any more casualties than there needs to be."

Evelyn's face hardened, and she ripped her arm out of his grip. "Then you can stop worrying. There aren't going to be any casualties – I'll make sure of it."

"Evelyn, please – "

"Don't make that face. Listen to me. These peace talks have to go well – the Divine is here, and both sides respect her. No one would do anything to upset her."

"But – "

"No 'buts'. If people aren't willing to step forward and say they want peace, then there can't be any peace. That's why I have to be here. Those templars and mages that are plotting right now? They probably haven't even considered how this war is affecting everyone else. Somebody needs to step up and tell them what they're too blind to see, and if that someone needs to be me, then so be it."

Mikhail didn't interrupt her this time. Instead, he just stared at her balefully for a long time. Finally, he whispered. "Just…just be careful, okay? And if something goes wrong, promise you'll run. Promise you'll get out of here."

Evelyn walked forward and wrapped her arms around her brother, but she didn't respond to his plea. She couldn't make any promises she didn't intend to keep. "Don't worry, little brother," she told him with a smile. "Everything's going to be just fine. We'll be together again soon, I promise."

She only wished the next time she saw him, it wasn't on a funeral pyre in Haven, with a burning mark upon her left hand and the hopes of thousands upon her shoulders.

* * *

With the rift in Winterwatch Tower closed, the attitude of the cultists within the castle changed drastically. The words "My Lady Herald" were whispered with solemn reverence every time Evelyn passed by, and some even reached out to brush their fingers along her sleeve or a hanging part of her jacket, as if a single touch could bring the holiness of Andraste into their lives.

It was disconcerting, to say the least.

The fort was mostly empty by now. Speaker Anais had taken many of the people within into the valley, to help care for the refugees at her request. A few had stayed behind to care for the castle, and to "hold it against her enemies", as the Speaker had explained it to her. Still, even with the worshipful gazes that were leveled at her every time she walked through the gates, it was a nice resting spot during her travels through the Hinterlands.

Solas had excused himself to investigate the cavern where the rift had been, and Sera had scurried off to Maker knew where when a man leaning up against one of the walls of the castle met her eyes. He jerked his head to the doorway he was standing next to before pushing off from the wall and walking into the room, closing the door behind him.

"I need a minute," she told Cassandra. "I'll meet up with you later."

"Don't be long," she replied back. "We need to return to Haven to report what's happening in Redcliffe."

Evelyn nodded, and with a deep breath, walked toward the door. The heavy wood slammed shut behind her, with the help of an armored hand. Slowly, she turned to face the man who had beckoned her in here. "Take a seat," he told her coolly.

Obeying his command, Evelyn observed him. It would have been all too easy to mistake him for the Mikhail she had seen at the Conclave – even now, the thought of him send a pang through her heart. The roundness had gone out of his face as well, and had turned it all to hard lines and angles. His face, however, was not decorated with lines of laughter, but instead crinkles around his mouth; the sort that formed when you frowned too much. Mikhail's eyes had been a pale gray, like the clouds during the first rain of the year.

But the single eye that was visible on this man…they were cold and sharp as tempered steel.

Finally, the heavy atmosphere got to be too much for her. "Your hair is longer," she murmured, just to fill the silence.

Daniel's hand slammed down on the table across from her. "You come here, after everything you've done, speaking _blasphemies_ , and all you have to talk about is _appearances?_ "

"You weren't exactly offering anything, either, and you're the one who called me in here." She pointed out. Still, she would have sought him out if he hadn't beckoned her over.

Moving away from the table, he started pacing furiously across the room. "The 'Herald of Andraste'?" he laughed bitterly. "Is that what you're calling yourself now?"

"It's what everyone else calls me," she replied, "and it's not going to stop anytime soon. I've learned to accept it."

"Please," he scoffed. "I heard you talking to the Speaker. You've convinced everyone here you're some sort of prophet, sent by the Maker to end all their woes. But _I_ know what you really are. You're a liar and a heretic – a snake." He rushed forward, his face mere inches from hers as he spat, "What sort of prophet maims one of her siblings, lets another die, and then proceeds to help those _heathen_ mages? The Maker never would have sent an _abomination_ like that as our savior."

Evelyn sat quietly in the face of his frothing rage, watching him rant with a heavy heart. Now, he searched her face, though for what, she didn't know.

Slowly – so, so slowly – she raised her hand to rest on his right cheek, below the patch covering his eye. When he didn't immediately pull away, she gently ran her thumb along the raised scars on his cheek.

"I never meant to hurt you," she whispered softly. "If I had known what was going to happen then, I would have locked myself away long before that day."

Daniel jerked away from her like he had burned. He stumbled back, refusing to meet her eyes, focusing instead on the empty wall. "Get out of here," he finally said. "Just go."

Obediently, she stood from her seat, heading toward the door. Then, she paused.

"Daniel." He didn't respond, or even turn to look at her, but she pressed on anyway. "Gail is out there, somewhere in the valley. Mikhail told me she was fighting for the rebels. The Inquisition army is going to do a sweep through the area soon, rounding up any mages and templars that are still fighting. I don't…I don't know what they'll do to those that they catch." She stopped – he would only reject her if she asked outright.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said earnestly, and exited the room, leaving Daniel to his thoughts.

* * *

Skyhold had been in a joyous uproar ever since they had arrived. The bliss of simply _being alive_ lead to wild parties in the evening by the members of the Inquisition, laughing and dancing their victory around great, roaring bonfires. Underneath it all, though, was a sense of solemnity, a worshipful sort of respect as memorials were erected for the hundreds of dead in Haven.

Evelyn herself rarely frequented these events. The reverence that people viewed her with had only increased since she had accepted the title of Inquisitor. If she ever came too close to the revelry, it would pause, and the people would bow their heads with respect. Evelyn didn't think she would ever get used to it – instead, she left them to their fun.

Still, she didn't feel quite so burdened by all of their hopes now – perhaps it was because the people she had used to simply call her allies were quickly becoming her friends. She loved Varric's stories, and he always seemed to have a new one prepared whenever she walked into the room – she still refused to believe that the Champion of Kirkwall had once defaced the statues in the Gallows with tomato juice, but she still laughed when he told the part about the templars mistaking it for nug's blood. Solas had the most interesting thoughts on the Fade, and she had stayed up into the wee hours of the morning debating magical theory with him more than once – Dorian had even started to join in from time to time, once he realized that Solas ignored him more often than not if he simply shouted his comments down from the floor above. She regularly took tea with Vivienne, and listening to Josie complain about nobles – and complaining in turn – was both refreshing and hilarious. Cole was heart-wrenchingly kind – she would find flowers and notes of encouragement on her pillow on some of her lowest days, and she tried to leave any wildflowers she found growing between the cracks of the stone walls of Skyhold in his place in The Herald's Rest when she was feeling better. She was even getting along with the Iron Bull, who she had taken for a lecher when he first started making comments about redheads as he grinned at the fire in her hair. She doubted he would ever admit it, but those comments only came when she was at her most introspective – it was always a great way to pull her out of her thoughts.

Becoming friends with Cassandra had been a surprise – the woman had glared at her throughout most of their original encounters, but the flush on her face as she tried to hide a copy of Varric's _Swords and Shields_ behind her made her smile. The next time she was in Val Royeaux, she found an old copy of one of her favorite romance novels sold in a tiny, back-alley store (Maker, how had a copy of something that dirty ended up the Circle at Ostiwck?). She had it delivered to Cassandra as soon as she returned, and soon, the two of them were exchanging book recommendations in hushed whispers when they thought no one was looking.

And Cullen…Cullen had been a surprise. Her friends in the Ostwick Circle had used to joke that she must have had a thing for men in armor, so she wasn't surprised to find that she thought him handsome – she could say the same for many others. What _had_ been surprising was discovering that she liked spending time around him for reasons that had very little to do with his looks. That first time they had played chess, she suggested spending more time together, fully expecting him to refuse her. Instead, he had told her, with a boyish smile on his face, that he would like that very much. Her hearts had been on wings for the rest of the day.

Since then, it had been a nervous give-and-take, neither of them quite ready to take that next step. They'd play chess regularly, talking about anything and everything _but_ the Inquisition. Occasionally, he'd invite her out to do a minor errand with him, just to spend more time with her. (At least, that was what she _hoped_ his intention was.) When they were alone in the war room together, discussing troop movements, he'd rest a tentative hand on the small of her back, his eyes steady on her face to look for any sign of discomfort even as he talked about clearing a road through the Frostbacks, and she would lean back slightly into his touch to say _yes, this is okay, I want this_ even as she verbally suggested an alternate route.

 _Perhaps it's my turn to make the next move_ , she mused as she ascended the steps of the tower back to her chambers. The fall back at Haven had bruised her back badly, so she had needed assistance going up and down stairs up until a couple of weeks ago. Now, she enjoyed being able to make the climb by herself, even if it did cause a dull ache in her spine.

Ah, she knew what she would do! Most often, the entirety of the Inquisition would eat in the same mess hall, or would grab their meals in the kitchen and find their own space to eat. There wasn't much room to eat together anywhere else, though restoration and rebuilding was underway all over the castle. However, she did have some nice balconies extending out from her room, and it wouldn't be difficult to drag a table and a couple of chairs out to admire the view with supper one night.

Thrilled with her plan, Evelyn barely kept herself from skipping to her desk to write him a quick note, if only to save herself from further pain. Yes, tomorrow night would be perfect…

She paused when she noticed the letter on her desk. She considered ignoring it when she saw a few of Sera's ridiculous drawings on it, but sighed and picked it up anyway.

The first drawing was simple enough, a heart with an arrow through it. Evelyn's face flushed, and she wondered if this was a jab about how much time she had been spending with Cullen. The second drawing…she wasn't entirely positive what it was, but something about it made her suspect it was obscene. She flipped the envelope over – and her blood froze in her veins.

The seal was the symbol of the Circle, but with a long scratch through it – the symbol of the mage rebellion. Evelyn nearly ripped the letter in her fervor to get at the envelope's contents.

Her heart dropped once more once she read the first line.

 _To the traitorous, conniving little viper that I'm forced to call my little sister,_

 _At first, I thought you clever for going to the templars for help. Mages are strong. Mages know how to solve their problems without some upstart organization nannying them. But the templars? They're stupid enough that, as soon as they were told they weren't needed anymore, they lashed out like children. Getting rid of them would have been the best thing Thedas has done in Ages._

 _But then you had to go and fuck it up – an_ alliance _to_ rebuild _the Order? Why would you want to rebuild the group that's oppressed mages for Maker knows how long?_

 _No, instead of getting rid of one of the biggest dangers to me – to_ you _– you prepare them to lock everyone up again, to undo all the great changes we've been making._

 _And to top it all off – the mages. The mages at Haven. As if recruiting the templars wasn't enough, you had to_ slaughter _them when they arrived at their gates. You_ murdered _Grand Enchanter Fionna – the catalyst for this rebellion._

 _The only thing that brings me satisfaction now is knowing that you'll get what's coming to you. Soon enough, a new Divine will be elected, and the Order will break away from the Inquisition to do the same thing they've been doing for Ages. Then, it won't matter that you're the Inquisitor, or the Herald of Andraste, or whatever other mad title you bestow upon yourself. To them, you are a mage, and they'll lock you up as an apostate, like all the others._

 _And me? I'll be far away from this blighted place, in the only place that_ really _understands magic._

 _I hope you're happy with yourself._

 _\- Gail_

With shaking hands, Evelyn dropped the letter into one of the drawers of her desk and closed it, where she wouldn't be able to see the scalding words upon the page. Suddenly, she didn't feel much like writing to Cullen. Instead, she changed into her nightclothes and climbed into bed, wrapping the covers around her body tightly.

Doing her best to ignore the moisture gathering on her pillow, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

* * *

Evelyn's eyes blinked open, only to squint at the dawning light creeping in through the hole in the roof. She groaned, rolling over to hide her face from the sun.

Obligingly, her bedmate drew her closer, wrapping the blankets tighter around them, obviously hoping to get another hour of sleep curled up together. Evelyn humored him for a moment, burying her face into his bare shoulder as he mumbled something sleepy and unintelligible.

Then, she sighed and looked up at him. "Cullen, I need to get up. My parents are here."

He cracked a lazy, golden-brown eye at her. "Can we ask them to leave?"

Evelyn chuckled. "I wish, but Josie's insisting I eat breakfast with them this morning. Says it'll be good for an alliance."

For a moment, he looked like he was going to resist, his arms tightening slightly around her. Then, he let out a sigh of defeat and dropped a kiss on the top her head before allowing her to slip out of his embrace.

She turned to smile at him as she dressed, his eyes half-open and still filled with sleep. Once the last clasp of her jacket was snapped shut, she returned to sit on the edge of the bed, smoothing the golden curls out of Cullen's face as she leaned down to give him a lingering kiss goodbye. She grinned when he tried to follow her as she pulled away.

"I'll see you later. Don't sleep too late," she chided as she headed to the ladder.

As soon as the renovations had been completed, Josephine had set up a few of the smaller rooms throughout Skyhold as meeting areas where they received nobles and welcomed them to the ancient castle. It was in one of these rooms that Evelyn found her parents waiting.

"Evelyn, my dear," her mother crooned as soon as she entered the room. She stood from her cushioned chaise to kiss her on both cheeks. "We've missed you so much. How are you?" Her father also stood from his seat to wrap his arms around her in a stiff hug.

Evelyn did her best not to squirm away in revulsion. If her parents had really missed her, they would have at least written to her in the Circle. Instead, the only communication she received during those thirteen long years was from her siblings, as well as a couple from her extended family.

Instead of protesting, she plastered on the blithe smile she used when dealing with courtiers, accepting their affection with grace. She would treat this as another step in The Great Game – and Evelyn was a master player.

Still, the fondness in their tones as they spoke about matters at home threw her for a loop. The affection in their voices didn't sound forced – it almost sounded like they genuinely cared for her wellbeing.

She supposed it wasn't impossible. Her relationship with Daniel had been strained for years, for obvious reasons, but there had been a change in the way they interacted in the past year. Though he still glared when she walked by, the heat had gone out of his stare, and their conversations were at least civil now. Their problems weren't the type that could be solved quickly, but at least progress was being made.

Maybe the same thing could happen with her parents. Evelyn found herself actually laughing when her mother described some social blunder a noble had made at her great aunt's latest soirée.

"Maker's Grace, he was in such a hurry to leave, he forgot his logbook!" her mother laughed. "Which reminds me – it's filled to the brim with some _interesting_ alliances that I'm sure the Inquisition would like to know about it. Dear, would you grab it for us?" she smiled, turning to her husband.

"Of course. Just give me a moment." He paused as he stood, then rounded the table to kiss Evelyn on the cheek. "We've missed you," he told her with a smile, then turned and left the room. It was strange to see her parents actually expressing their care for her, but somehow Evelyn thought she could get used to it.

"Now, come here. I want to get a better look at how my daughter's grown up." Her mother beckoned her over to sit beside her on the chaise. Evelyn obeyed, and Joslyn Trevelyan rested a hand upon her cheek, smiling as she looked her over.

Evelyn had always been told she looked like her mother, a fact she used to resent. Now, she wasn't sure it was so bad. The red hair that she and her siblings were known for came from her, though hers had a streak of gray in it now. Still, she managed to make it look elegant, twisting it back with the rest of her hair in delicate braids that wrapped around her head. Small lines had popped up around the forest green of her eyes, the only discernable signs of aging she could see. Despite the fact that her mother was now into her fifties, she still looked every bit the refined noblewoman.

"Now that I have you to myself," her mother murmured, pushing a lock of Evelyn's hair behind her ear, "There is something I wanted to discuss with you."

She paused for a moment, as if trying to decide how to continue. Finally, she decided on, "You were certainly out of your room early this morning."

"I'm the Inquisitor. My days start early."

"Early in your Commander's bed?"

Evelyn jerked away from her mother's hands. "That's none of your business," she snapped.

Joslyn held up her hands defensively. "I'm not trying to judge you," she said, and Evelyn relaxed a little, only stiffen again at her mother's next words. "Dalliances with commoners are all too frequent among people of our class. I was young once; I remember what it was like!" she laughed, but Evelyn pulled away.

"Don't…don't call it that. It's not a dalliance. I care about Cullen. I _love_ him."

"I know it feels like that now," her mother said, rising from her seat, "but you need to think about the future. He may be Commander of the Inquisition, but once this crisis is over, he's going to be an ex-templar and a commoner from some little Ferelden backwater. You'll see – he won't matter so much then."

"Stop it!"

But her mother only pressed on. "But you…Now, you are the Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste, not to mention a scion of House Trevelyan. I'll arrange you a match worthy of your blood as soon as this is over. You were meant to for princes and kings, not for some barbarian farm boy. I'm just glad your father doesn't know yet."

Evelyn had heard enough. She rounded on her mother, her eyes sharp. "You think you have _any_ right to dictate my life?" she spat. "You couldn't wait to get rid of me when it turned out I was a mage. You didn't write to me once during my time in the Circle. I doubt you would have even tried to free me after the explosion at the Conclave, when everyone thought I had murdered the Divine. But now? Now I have a following. I'm the leader of the Inquisition, and the people look to me as the Herald of Andraste. Now that I'm important, now that you can get something out of me – _now_ you want me? I don't think so."

"Is something wrong?" Her father had returned. Her mother was glaring at her, and Evelyn had the grace to flush at her outburst.

Still, she couldn't let this stand. "I'm afraid so," she said coolly. "The Inquisition has no place for you. We'll house you for the night, but you must leave by the morning. Good day, Father. Mother."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

Evelyn had been gone in the Frostback Basin for more than two months, and was ecstatic to be returning to Skyhold. She had been away from her Commander for far too long.

She slipped into Cullen's office as soon as she bade her traveling companions goodbye, long after the sun had set. A couple of scouts were making a report by torchlight, but they excused themselves quickly when they saw her leaning up against the doorway.

As soon as they were gone, she strode forward, hooked her hand in the collar of Cullen's breastplate, and dragged his lips down to hers. She sunk her hand into his hair when he didn't immediately pull away, but he wasn't kissing her back. For a moment, she worried that something was wrong, and nearly pulled back.

That was when she felt the mirthful shaking in his chest. Was he…laughing at her?

" _Cullen,_ " she mumbled into his mouth, but it only served to make him laugh harder. In retaliation, she sunk her teeth into his lower lip with more force than necessary.

"Ow!" he pulled back quickly, but he was still grinning at the sulky look on her face. "Maker, Ev, that _hurt_."

"I _missed_ you, and you're _laughing_ at me!" she complained. She felt a little bad when she saw the blood welling up below his mouth.

"Evelyn," he said, turning her around. "We have a _guest_."

The girl couldn't have been older than seven or eight. Her red hair was braided over her shoulders, and her green eyes – so familiar! - looked on with interest.

She grinned a gap-toothed smile and clapped her hands. "Do it again!"

Evelyn turned back around and buried her burning face into Cullen's breastplate, who quickly went from trying to keep his chuckles quiet to full-on laughter. Still, he wrapped his arms loosely around her, running his fingers up and down the bumps of her spine as she tried to cool the flush in her face.

"Penelope, come here," he said once he stopped laughing, though she could still hear the smile in his voice. "Don't you want to meet your sister?"

A small pair of arms tried to shove their way between them, and a tiny face peeked its way into their embrace, just above waist level. "Yeah, but she doesn't look like she wants to meet me," the girl said skeptically.

Evelyn knew she would have to face the music eventually, whether she wanted to or not. Disentangling herself from Cullen's embrace, she got down on one knee so she could look her youngest sister in the eye. "Of course I want to meet you, sweet thing," she said with a smile.

Penelope grinned that sweet little gap-toothed grin again and threw her arms around her neck. "Good!" she said decisively. "Mason talks about you all the time. He says you're his third favorite sister. He didn't say you're shy."

"Tell Mason I resent that," she said dryly, and Penelope giggled. "And I'm not shy, I'm just…tired." She heard Cullen snort behind her, but she ignored him. "Isn't it a little late for you to be awake?"

"It is, actually," Cullen commented, scooping Penelope up despite her protests. She stifled a giggle at the way the little girl automatically buried her arms into the fur wrapped around his shoulders, her tiny body practically swallowed up by his fluffy pauldrons.

"I want to stay awake and talk with Evelyn!" she whined.

"I'll tell you what, Penelope," Evelyn said indulgently as she followed Cullen out of the room, "Tomorrow, I'll spend the whole day with you."

That made her perk up. "The whole day? You promise?"

"I promise. How long have you been here, anyways?"

"About a week," Cullen called over his shoulder. "Mason dropped her off on the way to Tevinter."

"Yeah!" Penelope chirped. "Cully's been playing with me! But he's really busy sometimes, but it's okay because there's lots of fun people to play with here. The one with the horns is really silly!"

"Cully?" Evelyn asked, and Cullen turned his face away and coughed awkwardly. She could see the flush rising up the back of his neck.

"Yeah!" Penelope squirmed so she could look at her, oblivious to Cullen's embarrassment. "He was teaching me to play the game with the black and white squares today. I'm not very good at it, though…"

"You're a little young to fully understand it – " Penelope huffed indignantly at Evelyn's comment " – But anyone can pick it up with practice."

"Yeah! Cully says I was getting better," she said, practically bouncing as they entered into the room that Evelyn assumed was Penelope's. Cullen set her down gently on the bed. "He's really patient with me when we play. He's much nicer than Daniel."

"Most people are nicer than Daniel," was Evelyn's dry response.

"He yells at me sometimes. I wish Cully was my brother instead of Daniel."

"Be nice," she chided. "We don't get to choose our family."

"Actually," Cullen said suddenly, "We do. I can't do much about Daniel, but I _could_ technically be your brother." His voice was light and breathy, in a tone she had never heard him use before. Evelyn shot him a confused glance, but he refused to meet her eye.

"Really?" Penelope shot up out of her bed. "Can you?"

"I don't know," was Cullen's response. "It's your sister's decision."

What was he talking about? Finally, Cullen lifted his eyes to meet hers. There was something warm and soft there, something…hopeful?

Oh.

 _Oh._

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat.

Penelope didn't leave her much time to think about it. She wrapped her arms around Evelyn's waist, propping her chin up on her sternum. "Please?" she begged. "I _really_ want Cully to be a part of the family!"

"I…" Evelyn stood there speechless for a moment, between Penelope, who was practically vibrating with the force of her excitement, and Cullen, looking more nervous than she had ever seen him.

As if she would ever actually say no.

"I think Cullen would make a wonderful addition to the family," she said, letting the smile she couldn't contain anymore shine through. Penelope cheered, and the look of relief – and then joy – on Cullen's face was worth everything in the world to her.

It took quite a while to get Penelope to settle down after that. But with patience and soothing words (not to mention a lot of barely contained excited giggling on Evelyn's part), the two of them managed to quiet her down enough that she curled up in the covers. They whispered quiet assurances they she could come find them if she needed anything as they left the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Cullen swept her up into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. "You really meant it?" he whispered breathlessly as soon as he managed to separate himself. "You weren't just saying it for her, were you?"

Evelyn laughed, placing her hands on either side of his face and leaning forward to give him a quick peck. "You silly, silly man. Of course I'll marry you."

Maker, the way he smiled knocked the breath out of her every time. One of his hands rested over hers, and he turned his head to place a kiss in the center of her palm before removing her hand from his cheek. The metal, warm from his pocket, slipped over her ring finger.

"Cullen Stanton Rutherford!" she cried. "Did you plan this?"

"This? Hardly," he said with a laugh. "I've been meaning to ask you for a while, but I couldn't figure out how. This was rather unplanned. It seems to have worked for our purposes, though."

"That it has," she agreed, and drew him in for another kiss.


End file.
